


A Bit of a Promise

by gladsomemind



Series: Kinkelot [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: BDSM discussion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-21 21:56:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6059490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladsomemind/pseuds/gladsomemind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin acts to distract Uther before the big fight.</p><p>Missing Scene from 1.09</p><p> </p><p>Old LJ Fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bit of a Promise

"Sire?" Uther turned to see his son's manservant coming forward to help him with his armour. Arms full of a sword it was clear he had not been told by Gaius about the change in participant for today's bout. Maybe if Tristan got to kill Uther the shade would depart and leave Camelot in peace, what else could a king ask for but be allowed to die for his realm, for his son.  
  
The king turned away and started to pull at one of the buckles, this hadn't been so difficult to do the last time he had worn this. He was startled to feel unfamiliar hands bat his away and start to tug. This was not the behaviour of a normal servant, where was the deference that was due to the position. Really the boy should be dismissed, be sent to get someone who knew what they were actually doing.  
  
"You are too tense." Said matter-of-factly an observer would think this was a situation that was commonplace rather than a king going to die to save the prince. "Arthur needs... I mean the prince," the correction of the title made Uther smile, "likes to be distracted from the bout immediately before it. What would distract you?"  
  
"Spanking an insolent servant." The hands stilled, and then released the strap. As the boy walked away all Uther could do was try to work out what had happened to the permanent diplomacy filter that connected his brain to his mouth. Half turning to apologise for the uncalled for comment, it was brought home just where that filter had gone.  
  
The boy was on his hands and knees retrieving something from under the table. This was the boy, the young man, Gaius' nephew, who looked to visitors to the court to be clumsiness personified. Those who stayed long enough soon came to realise that it wasn't the boy who was the problem; it was collusion between the ladies of the court. How it was arranged, what the signals were, no man had yet worked out but something would always be dropped so that the boy would bend over to pick it up. Time and time again.  
  
Merlin, Uther did know his name, appeared oblivious to the tactic and spent half his time with his backside in the air and his head towards the floor. More than one Lord had commented, in a quiet aside, that it was downright disgusting; more than one had dropped something of their own. All seemed to be of the opinion that it would be good to have that backside under their hand.  
  
And now Uther, King of Camelot and one who expected to die this day, had voiced it.  
  
"That would probably be a bad idea, even if one could be found." The conversation appeared to have gotten away from Uther, what was the boy talking about?  
  
At his confused look, Merlin continued. "You could hurt your sword arm, be unable to hold a sword?" He hefted the pauldron from the table and carried it over to the watching king. "If you are going to win the fight need to be able to hold a sword." Said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and Uther was an idiot for needing it pointing out.  
  
"You could always be thrown into the stocks."  
  
The boy shrugged. "How would that help relieve your tension?" He quirked an eyebrow, a trick that Uther would say he had learnt from Gaius if the boy had any idea how he was doing it. "Mayhap you should tell me what you would like to do to this insolent servant and I can try to arrange something for after you win."  
  
At least there was someone in the castle who could sound convincing when he lied about Uther's chances. So why not? It was hardly as if he would have to face the boy again after today and a stream of random gibberish might serve to distract him from the interminable wait to die.  
  
"It will be in my chambers." May as well have some privacy for this never going to happen event.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"The servant will be waiting there as instructed, one order they have followed." Uther paused as the image of a Merlin standing in chains in front of his bed was replaced with one of a contrite boy looking at the floor. "The door will close with a click and I will walk over to the figure. A hand to the back of their neck and they will bend at the waist. Six, no ten, swats to the protruding backside, then they're released." Uther paused.  
  
"Ten? Maybe it wouldn't hurt your sword hand." Another jerk to an armour strap.  
  
"Ten to mark the intent, to focus the mind on what is to come." He rotated his shoulder, settling the armour into place. "There is a bowl on the table. The servant will take the bowl and go to the lower city, to the town pump, to fill it with water. They need to be back within a count of 500 from the guards outside my quarters..."  
  
"It would take at least twice that to get there and back, even running."  
  
"...or take additional punishment." Merlin nodded. "When they return a riding glove will be placed into the water..."  
  
"Icy water."  
  
"...for use later." Uther paused to watch the reaction from the boy has he returned to the table to pick up the next piece of armour, bending over the table. To watch a frisson cause him to roll his shoulders.  
  
"Then the servant will be told to bare their lower half, after all for a spanking to do any good it has to be delivered on the bare flesh, don't you agree?" A clenching of that pert backside was all the agreement needed.  
  
"Certainly, my lord."  
  
"Naked from the waist down they will then bend and grab their ankles, presenting the target for punishment willingly." The bent over figure seemed to push back just a little in agreement. "Then we begin. Slow, even, slaps alternating between cheeks. Nothing too loud that could alert the guards to what is happening in the room, this isn't a public display."  
  
Merlin straightened and returned with more armour. The image in Uther's mind changed again.  
  
"The flesh is beginning to pinken slightly, to become warm to the touch. The next swat is harder, the crack rings out around the room and is accompanied by the first sound from the servant, a cry and a hand comes up to protect." A grunt came from Merlin but could be attributed to his inability to fix this buckle.  
  
"That is not allowed, as the punishment must be taken in full. I turn from the backside and walk over to the table, noting the infringement on a slate."  
  
"What will happen because of it?"  
  
"That will be decided at the end, when it becomes clear what the final tally is." A nod, like this was a sensible conversation about wheat harvests.  
  
"The position is resumed, with the warning given that the hands are to remain on the ankles. The slaps are harder now, perhaps eased off a little from the one that caused the infringement but getting harder each time. The sounds are loud in the chamber and getting louder as they become mixed with the whimpering. Yet no more infringements occur."  
Merlin smiled and Uther would swear that this was the other half of the boy's charm.  
  
"Finally they begin to sway, a mixture of the continued spanks and the position being held. Encouraged to straighten hands reach around again in another violation and is again noted on the slate. Told to dress," a mew of discontent. "They are sent to fetch some reins from the stables, within a count of 200 from the guards."  
  
"Again, not possible." Uther acknowledged the statement with a nod.  
  
"When they return, appropriate clothing is loosened, then they are to hold their hands out in front of them to be tied with the reins. After that they are sent to retrieve the bowl and the glove, spilling the water adding to the tally on the slate. They return to the table and lie over its top with their hands in front. I walk around the table and secure their hands to the table legs. Three more marks are made on the slate."  
  
"Three?"  
  
"One for needing to be tied down, for not taking the punishment properly; the second for not being properly bared for punishment, this is taken care of next exposing that pinkened arse to the room once more. The final one is because the bowl with the glove is not where I need it to be and a good servant always anticipates the requirement of the master."  
  
"I see."  
  
"I take the glove from the bowl and work the sodden leather over my hand. Another tally, there are two gloves in the bowl, the other is not needed and is ruined, a servant should take more care. Then the first question, 'what was the count of the guard when you went for the water?' low into their ear. They didn't ask, which means?"  
  
"Another tally."  
  
"Of course. I move to the door and ask for the count, blocking the view into the room. It is over the 500, as I knew it would be; there is a discrepancy of seventy nine between the guard's count and mine. So this is the number of spanks to be delivered with the glove." Merlin's buttocks clenched again.  
  
"My hand falls twice, once to each cheek. 'One', I count. It comes again lower this time. 'Two.' By the time we get to the forties the glove is drying out, the cheeks are well into red rather than pink and the guards must know what is going on from the sound of the slaps and the resultant cries. Then, at a count of fifty three, there is a knock on the door."  
  
"Who is it?" Merlin's voice was a little breathless for the task in hand.  
  
"Gaius had been told to drop off his muscle cream." Another hitch of breath, "but this is the Seneschal. A king does not get much time alone, there are always demands. I call out for him to enter and move to the head of the table to release the restraints. Taking my time I motion for the Seneschal to enter the room properly and to close the door, any doubts the guards had as to what was happening is now cleared up."  
  
"The servant is told to rise and move to the corner of the room, shuffling over with the material around their ankles the partially punished flesh is covered. They are instructed to put their still bound hands around the back of their neck and I move over to secure the obscuring material. Stripping the glove from my hand I drop it back into the water to soak again and make another tally.  
  
"The Seneschal seems distracted from his usual business and this takes twice as long as it normally does. Finally he is done and collects the scrolls from the desk. As soon as it is clear I tell the servant to resume the position then ask the Seneschal about his wife. Retying the bonds to the legs of the table I reach for the glove, the leather is stiffer and harder to pull over my hand. I move back into position myself and ask after the man's daughter then start to deliver some spanks.  
  
"After hearing that his wife is in good health and that his daughter is hoping to contract a marriage shortly, I dismiss the Seneschal from my presence. He makes it to the door but with his arms full cannot open it easily. Fumbling the papers he manages to open it finally and gets the other guard to collect his fallen scroll a task that takes longer than it should. The door closes with a click and we are alone again. I deliver the next set of two harder than any that have fallen before getting a cry for my troubles and I resume the count, fifty four."  
  
Merlin paused in his task at this. "The count is surely more than fifty four?" He asked incredulously, then seemed to remember who he was talking to, "Sire."  
  
"Only those that take place when we are alone will count." Uther considered the boy kneeling on the ground in front of him. His eyes were bright and his skin flushed as he hung on Uther's every word.  
  
"As seventy nine is spoken the servant knows better than to relax and stays braced on their legs until the words is given that they may relax. Now for the second question, 'what was the count when you were sent to the stables?' again there is no answer as they neglected to ask on their return. It seems unfair to punish them twice for the same mistake so an offer is made. 'You have a choice; another tally or you can go and ask the guard for the count, keeping that arse showing at all times,' I apply a light slap to the red flesh." Uther looked down at the man, who no longer appeared to be doing anything.  
  
"Ask." So quiet it could almost be missed but decision made and so Uther must follow through.  
  
"I walk back to their hands and untie them from the table legs, leaving the reins trailing from the bound wrists. I sit in the middle of the box at the end of the bed and lean against the footboard. The servant, still with their ankles muddled shuffles backward reaching down to pull the material taut across their back so it doesn't fall and cover those rosy cheeks. At the door there is a problem, to open the door requires a release of the cloth, releasing the cloth will cover the backside and earn a tally. They bend, presenting the work in progress to my scrutiny, so they can work the door handle.  
  
"They stand up and move to the open doorway to ask the question, proud in their defiance, then return to the room and close the door. A quick learner they back towards me so I can continue to see my work. When they close they turn with eyes downcast and give the count, four hundred and nine. Over double the allotted amount of time taken. I send them back to the door to enquire as to whether Gaius has dropped off the cream. This time they are less successful and material covers the imprints of my hand. Obtaining the pot they close the door and return to my side, making no attempt to re-expose the red. I make two more tallies." Another mew from the man at Uther's feet.  
  
"We move to the penultimate part of the session. I motion that they are to get onto the box and lie over my lap. No gloves this time, and no interruptions. A count of two hundred and nine but I feel benevolent, a count of two hundred and eight, one hundred and four paired spanks to the arse upturned in front of me.  
  
"They fall swiftly and the tears that had been kept in so far start to flow. I build in strength to a crescendo around the hundred and fifty mark, the crack can surely be heard on the next floor, before easing off until the last few are of a strength that would barely have been noticed at the start of the evening, now however with the bruising so deep any touch is painful and they are not going to be able to sit comfortably for a few days."  
  
Merlin shifts onto his knees and is clearly not resting back on his heels.  
  
"The punishment is over but a hand to the back keeps the servant in position. I reach for Gaius' cream, the same cream that is supplied to the knights after a tournament and scoop out some of the cold mixture. There is a hiss as it touches the bruised flesh but they relax as I slowly massage this into the bruised cheeks. From experience the cream soothes and cools and will cause the flesh to heal quicker with no loss of sensitivity. There is though, a sting to the cream, it brings forth the bruising and will make it more painful to sit in the short term.  
  
"For now, though the crying has stopped; although the stuffed up breathing is loud in the room. I indicate that they are to stand on their own two feet, which they are reluctant to do until I start to reach for the slate. They stand there, hands still bound and still holding the cloth up to keep their arse on display while I pick up the slate and look at the count. Adding the numbers together I reach..."  
  
"Ten." The answer to the unasked question is swift and truly Uther had no idea what the count was.  
  
"I turn to look at the finally respectful servant 'A tally of ten. All of which could have been avoided if more care had been taken to anticipate the needs of those you serve. So now you have another choice. You can go to the Seneschal and ask for ten strokes of his cane. This must be done this evening. You can go to the guards and chose one to come into the room now and deliver five strokes of the riding crop. Then you must go to other guard tomorrow and ask for another five strokes. Or you can come...'"  
  
The door opened and one of the knights entered the room breaking the spell. "Sire, it is almost time." He bowed respectfully then retired.  
  
Merlin got to his feet and shook himself. This wasn't the time for stories, although he had been successful in diverting Uther's mind from the fight ahead. This was a time for preparation.  
  
***  
  
The feast left a bitter taste in Uther's mouth. Thankful that he had survived the fight but broken at having killed his wife's brother for a second time. Merlin had disappeared taking that wonderful sword with him, a sword that Uther would proudly have worn until his dying day, and had not been seen since just after the fight.  
  
He would retire now and worry about what tomorrow would bring tomorrow, for a change. With a nod to the usual guards on his door Uther entered his apartments and closed the door with a click. Looking up he discovered what had happened to Merlin as he was faced with the sight of the man looking more contrite that he had ever managed before as he looked down at his clasped hands.  
  
"Sire."


End file.
